The jet touched down at Teterboro just after ten in the morning. Dayo had flown into this airport a dozen times in the past two years, but today the tarmac felt different. He wasn't arriving as a performer or a tourist. He was arriving as a general mustering troops.
Max and Bella flanked him down the stairs, both in dark coats that didn't quite hide the hardware underneath.
The car was waiting. Black, anonymous, arranged through a service that didn't keep logs. Dayo slid into the back seat and checked his phone for the first time since takeoff. Three messages, all from the same thread. The four label heads confirming their arrival times. They'd been eager. That was either a good sign or a trap he couldn't see yet.
